No Regrets
by DrunkenTink
Summary: Hermione Granger: A walking dictionary to many, an unknown entity to many and a mudblood to others. But you must have a pretty good life if you can say you have no regrets. Friendship One-shot.


**Disclaimer: **Much to my utter horror, I do not have the imagination and brilliance that it took to create the entire Harry Potter world, that honor belongs to J K Rowling and whoever she allowed to have some of that pie. I am just borrowing the characters...

**Authors Note:** I have absolutely no idea where this came from. I wrote it ages ago and found it on my laptop whilst looking through files. I don't write anything to do with Hermione because she is not one of my favourite characters and she always ends up being written in a way that you can tell I don't overly like her. But alas I did quite like this and so decided to pop it on here. It was originally going to be something a lot larger, but as I said I can't write her and I rather like it the way it is.

Please R&R! Many thanks.

**No Regrets**

Hermione Granger was not a stranger to hard work. In fact if you were ever in need of a walking dictionary that could add opinion to fact, she was your girl. And yet… when it came to matters of the heart, when feelings and emotions overtook logic and knowledge, Hermione found herself lacking.

That's why on the first train ride that was to mark her new life as a witch, _a witch_ (nothing more illogical than that to one who was usually scientifically minded), she struggled with how to proceed with these people who had obviously known what magic was. Had obviously known that the strange things that happened around them were not just strange occurrences or unexplainable events and obviously knew what to talk about to each other and how. And she didn't. She didn't know how to talk to them. Didn't know that to some there, the fact that she hadn't known she was magical or a witch was a bad thing. Didn't know that to some the fact her parents were not a witch and a wizard meant she was underneath them.

For these facts, and because of them trying desperately so hard to make up for it by learning as much about magic and every other subject that she could, she made it worse for herself. For all these things she found herself alone, more alone than she had ever been at her muggle primary school, where her only friend was a strange girl who had moved to the school nearing its end and the pet hamster the Year 6 class were allowed to have before they left for the wonder of secondary school.

Alone. It was hard to be alone at any time. Particularly in a dorm full of prepubescent giggling and gossiping girls, all of whom seemed to know one another somehow or in a classroom full of other people who seemed to have no problem in partnering up with what could be a stranger and seeming to be best friends by the end of the class. Alone when surrounded by people, that was the worst type of alone.

Yet not even halfway through the year, Hermione Granger seemed to find herself with not one but two friends. Friends who actually wanted to spend time with her. Friends who in this school were popular, famous even.

And as the years went by, and the trouble Miss Granger managed to land in increased tenfold thanks to her friends, she found she never doubted them. Never wished they had never become friends. Even when the fallouts threatened to drown her from her inside out, when the tears made her feel like there would be permanent water marks down her cheeks she never regretted the moment her friendship with the raven haired boy and the freckled boy began.

When time continued to race by, impervious to the teenagers wish that perhaps for once she and her friends might like an uneventful year. When she realised her feelings toward one of her friends was changing, developing into something more drug inducing than the friendship ever was Hermione still looked back at that troll with fond memories. Even when the tall ginger haired male was inducing rage within her she hadn't thought herself capable of she never regretted it.

Hermione had entertained the idea of death a million times. She supposed when you were best friends with Harry Potter and constantly involved in some plot to hopefully, _eventually_, kill off the most evil being of all time, you needed to be prepared to die. But to she it would be no regret. Hermione could honestly say she never regretted a decision. They all stemmed from the place where she had become friends with the two people who knew her best in the world. With the two people she would gladly die for, and who she could say without hesitation, would do the same for her. SO death was not a worry.

But happily, unexpectedly, it did not come. As she stood at her wedding, her face once again damp from tears, though this time happy tears. And her mouth threatening to split from the wide grin she was sporting whilst looking at her freckled, wild tempered, fiercely stubborn husband, she found herself thanking the fates for whatever reason they had found to pair her with the messy raven haired man and _her _tall auburn haired man.

Alone was not something she had been in years. Regrets were not something she ever felt. And she knew that destiny did exist. It had played a role in her life. Logically it might not make sense, scientifically it might never be proven, but that was OK because science and logic had never made her feel as good as what destiny clearly had.

There was a lot more to be said for friends than even the walking dictionary had words for.


End file.
